


Deadly Sins - Enraptured by Lust

by River_of_Phlegethon (Sleeping_Warrior_Panda)



Series: Deadly Sins [1]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Anal Fingering, Begging, Beware the flowers, Breasts, Doctor/Patient, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Forced Orgasm, Fucking, Medical Examination, Mentions of Rape, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Please Don't Hate Me, Porn, Porn With Very Little Plot, Sex, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Vaginal Fingering, f/f - Freeform, kind of, since they're under the influence of sex pollen, though it's a nurse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-02-28 10:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleeping_Warrior_Panda/pseuds/River_of_Phlegethon
Summary: Samantha Denver is a registered nurse trying to earn her degree to become an advanced practice registered nurse. Needing clinical experience, she's doing some work at a health clinic. She notices an increase in victims of violence and rape, seemingly without any correlation between each case.Not knowing that the demon prince of lust, Asmodeus, has arrived and is wreaking havoc in the city, Samantha tries to investigate. Samantha is put in several situations of sexual nature she never would've expected, as are those around her. Suddenly, nowhere in the city's safe.*** This is 95% smut. Do not go any further if you're expecting a solid story. ***





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> This is part one of my Deadly Sins series.  
> Even though I've tried to portray the "core sin" in every story, all of the stories are mainly focused on lust, because SMUT.  
> There's a thin almost non-existent story arch that envelops all of the seven parts, but you can also read all of the parts separately.  
>    
>  **Warning: There will be violence, rape and lots of other, less pleasant things happening. If that's not your thing, please turn back now!**  
>   
>  **Be mindful of the fact that tags will be added on as I go and might change.**  
> 
> 
>  
> 
>  **CHAPTER ONE:** This is the first time I've written F/F, so please be kind. Also, this is the only chapter planned in this story to have F/F. So if you don't like this for that reason, jump over to:
> 
>  **CHAPTER TWO:** M/F/M.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
> *******************  
>  
> 
>     
> 

 

 

 

 

_Lust or lechery is intense longing. It is usually thought of as intense or unbridled sexual desire, which leads to fornication, adultery, rape, bestiality, and other immoral sexual acts. However, lust could also mean simply desire in general; thus, lust for money, power, and other things are sinful._

 

Sam's sitting in the breakroom taking a much needed breather in between patients when she hears a commotion out in the hallway. An older nurse with salt-and pepper hair and a stern face rushes inside.  
  
“Denver! We need extra hands out here!”  
  
The nurse, Mrs. Sutton, doesn’t wait for a response but disappears just as quickly out through the door. Sighing, Sam rises from the threadbare couch, feet aching and head slightly throbbing. She should’ve taken that aspirin that she was offered earlier, but her shift's almost over and an optimistic part of her thought that she would make it through without painkillers.  
  
Sliding the stethoscope back around her neck, she reluctantly follow the older nurse’s trail. Outside the breakroom is chaos, as it has been for almost two weeks now. Exhausted nurses are running around trying to tend to the overwhelming amount of patients streaming to the clinic, but unfortunately several people are turned away since there’s simply no time to help them all.  
  
Rubbing her tired eyes, Sam tries to muster up some energy to get through this last hour. Helping out at the health clinic was never intended to be a fulltime job, but it quickly developed into one. She's actually studying to become an advanced practice registered nurse. After that, she desperately wants to apply to work for a hospital. More specifically: Greenside Hospital. That’s where her mother worked until she died of cancer almost eight years ago.  
  
Though a student of the nearby university for at least another year to further her career, Sam's already a registered nurse. More than capable to handle her workload on her own, she doesn't need to be monitored, but Mrs. Sutton's watching her like a hawk.  
  
“You’ve an hour left, get to work!” She barks.  
  
Sam shares an eye roll with a younger nurse behind the old crone's back and they both snicker quietly. However, not wanting to get on her bad side, Sam immediately takes on the task at hand. The waiting room’s filled to the brim of people. There's a lot of black eyes, bruises and cuts.  
  
The younger nurse comes up to Sam with a chart. Her name's Ambrosia, and with skin dark of color and black hair of shoulder-length, she's beautiful and exotic. She's also one of the few who can wear scrubs and still look good.  
  
“We have a Miss Robertson in room four, could you-?”  
  
“Is she another victim of abuse?” Sam interrupts, taking a look at the chart.  
  
“Aren’t most of them?” She raises an eyebrow. ”I don’t get it. It’s like people have gone crazy overnight.”  
  
“Tell me about it.” Sam takes the chart. ”I’ll handle it.”  
  
Passing by another couple of nurses on her way to examination room four, she overhears one of them claiming that it’s the full moon making people act this way. _Sure, the full moon usually lasts several weeks…_ Shaking her head in disbelief, Sam goes on to room four and knocks on the door as she opens it.  
  
“Hi, Miss Robertson, right? I’m Samantha Denver.” 

Miss Robertson's an slightly older woman, probably in her late fifties, with very pale, almost translucent skin. Wearing an ill-fitting beige cardigan and a below the knee skirt of a light brown color, it's obvious that she lacks fashion sense and is dressed more warmly than the weather demands. The outfit together with the paleness of her skin leads Sam to conclude that she probably doesn't leave her home a lot.  
  
Sitting down on a hard wooden chair opposite the examination table where the woman's sitting, Sam reaches into her pocket and pull out a notebook and a pen, ready to put down any relevant information.  
  
Looking at her patient expectantly, Sam pours concern into her voice; "What's happened?"  
  
Flushed face, hair all tussled and the arm of her cardigan sporting a large rip, informs her that the woman's been in some kind of kerfuffle.  
However, there's no defense wounds on her hands, no one brought her in and the police's not involved, as far as Sam knows. Did her assailant just leave? She still has a purse by her side, so she wasn't robbed. Sam's mind directly starts to file away the information. Just in case. 

"It was my neighbour," the woman starts. "An older gentleman. We've been neighbours for almost eighteen years. Never an issue. He's very kind and respectful. A bit on the older side, very quiet. The only noise is from the upstairs tenant. _He's_ very loud and comes and goes all hours of the day... unpleasant man."

Sam starts writing in the notebook. "What did your neighbour do?"

The woman pulls down the ripped arm of the cardigan and shows a large purple-black bruise. Sam leans forward to take a look at it.

"That's a nasty bruise. Did he do that?"

She nods. "I was so surprised. He came home from a job... he's retired but still takes an odd job here and there. He was a gardener, you know.  
Over thirthy years of experience. But he never really found the same joy in his work after his wife died. At least his children visits often enough. They're very caring and sweet."

Sam makes a noise of confirmation. "So he was coming back home... ?"

"That's right. I was on my way to get the mail and met him in the hallway as he was coming inside the building. We were chatting a bit about this and that. He was still wearing his overall. An ugly thing. The same he always uses."

Miss Robertson takes a breath, and Sam quickly interject, a bit impatient to get to the point; "So he assaulted you?"

"He was acting a bit strange, saying that he refused to finish a job he had taken on, because they offered him too little payment. I've never heard him complain about that before, so I was curious and asked more. Turns out that he was asking for an outrageous sum, and I told him that. I'm not afraid of speaking my mind!"

She puffs out her chest, clearly proud of that.

"The longer I was standing there, listening to him, the stranger it all became. Suddenly he grabbed my arm and pushed me against the wall hard, and then ran into his apartment."

Sam frowns. "Did he say something before that? What happened afterwards?"

The woman shrugs, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. "Nothing. I banged on his door, demanding he open, but he didn't answer. My shoulder hurt, so I decided to come here to make sure everything's fine."

"Did you call the police?"

Miss Robertson shakes her head. "No. he's never done anything like this before, and he always helps me with repairs around the apartment. I don't want to get him into trouble."

"This sort of thing... it's something you should report."

At that, her eyes narrows. "I'm only here to get my arm and shoulder looked at. I'm not reporting anything."

Knowing that she can't force the woman, Sam continues on with a short examination, in the end determining that the bruise's the worst of it. Nothing's broken or dislocated. She promises to have a doctor prescribe some painkillers and Miss Robertson lits up.

"Thank you, dear."

Saying their goodbyes, Miss Robertson happily walks out while Sam updates the woman's medical history in the clinic's online system. After finishing up, Sam manages to take on another six clients before her shift's finally over. Not bothering to change into her regular clothes, she grabs her bag, ready to leave.

"You're leaving?" Ambrosia asks as Sam's on her way out.

Briefly stopping, Sam turns to her. "Yeah, going home to study. I've classes tomorrow."

"But you're still on for tomorrow, right?"

Sam nods. "I'm working an early shift and leaving in the afternoon."

Ambrosia sighs. "Damn, I guess Sutton's going to be on _my_ case tomorrow then."

Mrs. Sutton's not really satisfied if she can't ream someone out at least once a day. And more often than not, she's on Sam's ass like a bad tattoo. However, both Mrs. Sutton and Ambrosia are working the evening shift tomorrow. The latter being another one of Mrs. Sutton's favorite punching bags.

"Probably," Sam shrugs. "But I'm working a full shift on friday. See you tomorrow!"

 

 

*******************

    
 

At home, after taking a quick shower, an exhausted Sam cosies up in front of the TV in a tank top and a pair of wide shorts. Zapping between the channels, nothing catches her attention until a local news report flashes by. Jumping back to that channel, she watches intensively.

There's a severe looking man standing in front of a green screen displaying an image of hodded men, a stock picture they often like to show off when talking about crime. And of course the report's about the increased violence in the city. More specifically, the eastern part. That's all the news have been talking about the last few days now that they've finally caught onto what's happening.

Apparently there's been another assualt, this time on the campus of the university Sam's attending; the location being rather close to the hot spot of several recent assaults. Thankfully it was interrupted and the offender apprehended.

Maybe Sam should be disturbed by the fact that a woman's been attacked on campus. But at the same time it's such a huge area and the news report doesn't divulge any details. It might be that the victim and perpetrator knows each other. That's usually the case, as she's learned during her work at the clinic.  
Or it might not be as serious as the news anchor makes it out to be. There might be a hundred different extenuating circumstances. It doesn't mean that the campus is suddenly unsafe.

However, it still feels better when the news anchor tells her that more police cars will patrol the most afflicted areas, keeping an eye out. The report ends with a statement from law enforcement encouraging the public to be cautious, though they're very careful with the wording; not wanting to induce panic.

Maybe the majority of the people don’t really know how bad it is, but Sam does. She meets several of the residents from that area every day in the clinic, with all kinds of wounds and stories to tell. It's enough to make a person worry.  
Thankfully, Sam's living in the southern part of the city, almost a forty minute bus ride from the worst of it. It's obviously been enough of a distance for her to still be surrounded by calm.

Stifling a yawn, she's getting ready for bed when her cellphone buzzes enthusiastically. Answering the call, she almost immediately regrets doing so when realizing it's her mom. Her parents live outside of the city, in a small town where Sam herself was born and raised. Her parents never having lived anywhere else, they often worry when reading or hearing something in the news that could potentially affect their daughter.

Summoning her most calm and professional 'nurse-voice', Sam manages to convice her mom that everything's fine and there's nothing to concern themselves about. It takes almost half an hour before Sam can at last hang up. _Finally._

Sam stumbles into bed, bone-tired, already dreading the very long day of both work and school tomorrow.

 

 

*******************

    
_The next day_  
  
  
  


Sam's workday passes rather quickly, since it's not a full shift this time around. Finally clocking out, she goes to the locker room to change from her scrubs. There's still ample of time before her classes starts, so she's in no hurry and decides to take a shower as well. Meeting a couple of colleagues on her way in, she hastily greets them before continuing on to her locker.

“You're done?”

Sam turns around at the sound of Ambrosia’s voice. ”Yeah. I’m just getting a quick shower and getting changed.”

Ambrosia plops her bag down beside her, claiming an empty locker. “I wish I was leaving as well. It feels like I _just_ finished the last shift.”

Without any shame she removes her sweater, revealing a rather large chest. Sam looks away whilst shyly removing her own clothes.  
Ambrosia’s breast almost spills out of the cups as she bends over to remove her pants, and Sam can’t help but glance over a couple of times. Not that Sam’s interested sexually in her, but it’s difficult to tear her gaze away, the breasts jiggling almost as if the bra doesn’t constrain them at all.  
  
Pants following the sweater into the locker, Ambrosia now stands half-naked beside her. She’s wearing a thong as usual; the flimsy material doing little to hide her lower parts. Sam blushes as she discards the last of own her clothes, wrapping herself in a towel.

“You should hurry. Sutton’s going to be mad if you’re late,” Sam says without looking in Ambrosia’s direction. She receives a sigh in response. 

“Yeah... that old crone.” Now dressed in scrubs, Ambrosia grimaces unhappily. ”I hate wearing this! It’s like a big pyjamas,” she whines.

Sam hums in agreement as she heads towards the showers.

“Okay then, time to face reality,” Ambrosia steels herself. “Good luck with your classes!” She shouts to Sam as she leaves, making a beeline to the breakroom to get some coffee. Entering the room, she's met by a huge bouquet of flowers.

“Wow!”

Another nurse’s there, getting a much needed dose of coffee as well. “Apparently someone made a Miss Robertson very happy yesterday,” she raises an eyebrow, nodding towards the flowers.

“Miss Robertson?” Ambrosia frowns, recalling that she’s heard that name before.

Reading the card attached to the flowers, she’s even more confused. _I thank my nurse for the excellent care provided yesterday. All is well now. Kind regards, Miss Robertson._

“Okay…?” Ambrosia shares a shrug with the other nurse. ”I’m glad someone’s satisfied even if it’s total chaos here.”

She takes her turn at the coffee machine as Mrs. Sutton enters the room.

“Simons, Wilmer, get a move on, will you? There’re at least sixty patients out there. It’s no time to be slacking.”

Ambrosia sighs internally, but keeps a neutral expression on her face. “Of course.”

Mrs. Sutton frowns at the flowers. “Who brought these in here?”

The other nurse, Miss Wilmer, responds; “A patient had them delivered.”

Mrs. Sutton tuts disapprovingly. “We can’t have flowers in the breakroom. Someone might be allergic. Really, what were the patient thinking?”

“I think it’s nice to be appreciated,” Ambrosia defends the patient.

“Well, they’re not staying here.” Mrs. Sutton’s determined. “I’m putting them somewhere where they cannot do too much damage.” Grabbing hold of the flowers, she storms out.

“Twenty bucks says she'll puts them in her own office,” Miss Wilmer says.

“I’m not throwing away twenty bucks,” Ambrosia snorts, grabbing her coffee and heading out.

 

 

They're of course right. Mrs. Vilma Sutton puts the impressive bouquet in a place of honour at her desk in her own office. Hastily reading the card, she then crumples it in her hand and throws it in the trash. She doesn’t care who Miss Robertson is, but it’s nice to have flowers cheering up the room.  
  
Finishing up some paperwork for the last patient she treated, she’s so concentrated that she at first doesn’t even notice she’s beginning to feel warmer, as if someone's raised the temperature.  
When it hits her, she fans a hand in front of her face in vain, trying to find some release.  
  
Clothes starting to chafe a bit as if they’re suddenly too tight, she's squirming in her seat as a result. But she's brushing it off as stress. All these lazy nurses standing around just gossiping when there's so much work to be done... it puts too much of a burden on herself to pick up the slack.  
  
Marching out from her office, she grabs a chart, scanning it briefly. “Miss Richter?” She calls out into the waiting room, and a young girl, barely eighteen, rises.  
  
“Come with me,” Vilma gestures at the girl and briskly walks back to her room.  
  
The girl follows her, head down, shuffling feet, her entire demeanour screaming of shyness. Vilma hopes that the girl isn’t one of the unfortunate ones who’s been attacked. She'd prefer to get through at least one shift without having to call the police to get a statement.  
  
Vilma tells the girl to sit down on the examination table at once, not wanting to waste any time.

"My name's Mrs. Vilma Sutton, I'm a nurse here." It won't make any difference to the girl what kind of nurse she is, so she decides to keep it simple. "Why have you come here today? According to your chart, the last time you were here was almost four years ago."

"My dad sent me," the girl murmurs. "I'm going abroad in a month to study and need a health declaration."

Relieved that the girl's not a victim of some sort, Vilma's still a bit annoyed that the girl is taking up valuable time for this. Normally she wouldn't be, as she has a good hand with patients, but there's something in the back of her mind nagging at her.

"I see," she clears her throat, trying to keep her irritation under control. It's better to just get it over with.

Rummaging through some papers, she finds what she’s looking for and hands it to the girl. “Fill out your full name, social security number, address, contact number and so forth. When you’re done, we’ll check your weight and height for starters.”

Vilma takes the opportunity to get more paperwork done whilst the girl fills out the form, though it’s becoming more and more difficult to focus. Catching herself glancing at the girl more than once, Vilma’s becoming increasingly uneasy.

The girl has blond, almost white, smooth hair running down below her shoulders, and Vilma can imagine her hands running through it. It’ll probably feel like silk. Face turning red, she forces herself to stare down at the paper, reading the same sentence for probably the seventh time by now.

The girl fidgets slightly on the table and the older woman looks over at her again. The girl’s sitting bent over the form in her lap, and though her top isn’t low-cut, the upper part of her breasts are still hinted at in this position. Vilma notices that the clothes can’t hide the fact that the girl's well-endowed for an eighteen-year-old. _Damn Vilma, why are you thinking of a patient’s breasts? Get a grip on yourself!_

When the girl’s done, she hands over the form.  
  
“Jennifer, that’s your name?”  
  
The girl nods.  
  
”Well then, Jennifer. Why don’t you get up and go over to the scale? We’ll check your weight next.”

Obeying wordlessly, the girl gets on the scale and Vilma hurriedly writes down the figure. Jennifer’s a bit on the slim side, though it doesn’t come as a surprise. Vilma’s not blind. Even though the top and jeans aren’t tight on her, they’re still formfitting.  
Clearing her throat again, as if expelling any unsavoury thoughts from her mind, Vilma gestures for her to stand against the wall so she can measure her height. More numbers are written down on the form.

“Do you smoke or drink?” Vilma asks, as she gestures for the girl to sit down on the examination table again.  
  
Jennifer shakes her head.

“Okay, I’ll check your blood pressure and listen to your heart. Can you roll up your sleeve for me?”

The sleeve doesn’t go any further than to her elbow. The arms of the top's too tight. Vilma swallows hard. There’s only one solution for this and her heart’s starting to beat faster. Distracting herself with arranging the blood pressure cuff in her hands, she tries to retain her professional demeanour even though her blood’s rushing to her pussy, making her tingle down there.

“In that case, will you remove your top, please?”

She briefly worries that the girl will call her a pervert and run off, but of course that's ridiculous. This is a perfectly reasonable request.

“Of course,” Jennifer breathes; cheeks slightly pink. Throwing off the top, neither of them cares where it ends up.

The girl's not wearing a bra, and Vilma almost moans at the sight of those perky breasts loose. She tries not to stare, but it's hard when all she can think of is sucking on those nipples. _Did she come here wanting to get attention? Is that why she's not wearing a bra? Such a tease._

But Vilma’s still professional and secures the cuff on Jennifer's bicep, careful not to touch her naked breast. As she squeezes the balloon to increase pressure, the girl’s breath hitches. Vilma knows it’s not painful and it’s confirmed when she spots the stiffened nipples on those perfect mounds. _Is she enjoying this?_

Vilma leans forward, placing the stethoscope just inside the elbow crease under the cuff and listens. Watching the aneroid monitor and writing down the numbers, she notes that the blood pressure’s a bit high. As if she's stressed. _Or aroused._

“It’s good enough,” she says in a raspy voice, withdrawing.

“Should I… should I put my top back on?”

“No.” If it was up to Wilma, she’d never let her get dressed again. “I’m going to listen to your lungs and heart.”

Taking the stethoscope in hand again, she puts it on the girl's naked back.

“Oh!”

Goose bumps breaks out over Jennifer's flawless skin.

”I’m sorry, it’s a bit cold,” Vilma mumbles, as she listens to the lungs a few seconds. “Now for the front.”

Vilma’s own nipples are erect and painfully pressing against her padded bra and she can’t take it anymore. She _needs_ to touch her.

“To get an accurate reading, I need to place the stethoscope just above your heart, below your left breast," Vilma explains. "But your breast’s too big; I’ll need to lift it.”

Jennifer doesn’t say anything, but her breathing’s getting shallower. Vilma takes her silence as permission. Almost visibly shaking, she reaches out and forms her left hand around a naked breast, unnecessarily squeezing it in the process. Jennifer makes a strangled noise.

“Good, you’re doing so well,” Vilma soothes as she licks her lips, staring at the pink nipple. It takes all her willpower to concentrate on listening to the heart, though she can’t stop herself from gently fondling the breast.

“Your heart’s fine. Racing a bit, perhaps. Are you nervous, Jennifer?”

She nods. ”Yes. I’ve never done this before.”

“Never? Hmmm… in that case, I think it’s best we do a full physical, don’t you think?”

Jennifer bites her lower lip. “What does that mean?”

“Well, there are a lot of things that happens in a girl’s body when she becomes an adult.” Vilma still haven’t released her grip on the girl’s breast.

“I… I…,” she stutters nervously, but then nods determined. ”I'll do as you say.”

“Good girl,” Vilma applauds her. “It won’t hurt, I promise. Now, for starters, I want to check for breast cancer. Have anyone in your family had breast cancer?” Her thumb flicks over the nipple, making the girl gasp. “Hmmm? A mother? A grandmother?”

She shakes her head vigorously and moans. ”No!”

Vilma’s other hand finds the other breast and she fondles them both, pressing them against each other and playing with the nipples.

“Mmmm…,” Jennifer squirms on the table.

“Does it hurt?” Vilma asks with fake concern, concealing a pleased grin. ”How does it feel?”

“N-no, it doesn’t…”

“You can be honest with me, Jennifer.” Pinching a nipple hard, she’s awarded with another moan. “Maybe you’re cold? I know the stethoscope on naked skin is uncomfortable. Do you want me to warm you?”

Jennifer can’t even respond, instead throwing her head back and letting the older woman do as she pleases.

“Well, we can’t have that. It’s my job to make sure that my patients are comfortable.”

There’s no disguising the lust in Vilma’s voice, though she’s not even sure the girl’s experienced enough to recognize it. Unable to resist she leans forward and takes a hard nipple in her mouth, letting her tongue dance over the peak, sucking on it like a child.

“Mmmmm… ooohhh,” Jennifer cries under the nurse’s torturous administrations.

“And the other one, shall we?” Vilma turns to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

Kneading the other breast with a firm hand still, she gives both breasts equal attention. Tongue lapping around the nipple teasingly, she then gently tugs on the tip, sucking on it as her cheeks hollows in the process. Going back to the other breast again, she latches onto it. Jennifer's pressing her chest against her, whining _'more'_ with closed eyes.  
After what might have been several minutes Vilma finally withdraws, a string of saliva running from her mouth to the abused glistening peaks.  
  
“There. All warmed up,” the nurse smiles.

Jennifer’s face’s flushed and she’s breathing hard. Rubbing her jeans-clad legs together as if wanting to add pressure to her pussy, she’s watching the nurse with anticipation.  
Vilma’s wondering how far she can go with this. _If the girl’s willing, why not go all the way?_

“Now, no sign of breast cancer. That’s good. Very good. But there’s always a chance of ovarian cancer.”

Frowning Jennifer asks; “What’s that?”

“It’s cancer in the uterus. Just on the upper part of your vagina.”

“Oh.”

“It’s very dangerous. We need to do a pelvic exam to check for symptoms. So take off the rest of your clothes.”

Vilma almost giggles at the shocked and embarrassed expression on her face.

“Now, now, it’s not going to hurt. Do as I say. I can look away if you want to.”

Shivering, the girl nods. Vilma turns away even though she knows she’ll see everything soon enough. And _touch_. She sneaks a hand down between her legs and fondles her pussy through her clothes, needing some release. She’s so wet and aroused. Damn she wants that girl’s mouth on her. Wondering if the girl's ever eaten out a woman before, she's thrilled at the thought of being her first. Maybe she’s still a virgin. Vilma groans at the thought.

As she hears the examination table creak under the girl’s weight, she turns around. Suddenly very shy, Jennifer's covered her naked breasts with one hand and her pussy with the other, whilst keeping her legs closed. Vilma raises the metal supports on either side of the examination table.

“Bend your knees for me,” she commands.

Jennifer turns her head and looks away as she obediently does as she’s told. But her hand remains between her legs, hiding her from view.

“Now spread them.”

Her tone’s short, impatient. Eager to start the examination and get her hands on that smooth body. The girl's moving too slowly for Vilma’s taste, so the nurse grabs her legs and spreads them brutishly, placing one foot each on the metal supports.

“Remove your hand.”

As she obeys, she reveals a clean-shaved pussy glistening of moisture in the harsh light.

“What’s this?” Vilma taunts. ”You’re leaking something.” She presses a finger against Jennifer’s pussy and drags it up along her wet slit, collecting the liquid.

“N-no...“

Vilma makes a _tsk_ sound. “Don’t lie to your nurse. You’re drenched. Normally I have to use lube to get a finger inside, but it won’t be needed in your case.”

“I-inside?”

“Of course, girl. How did you think a pelvic exam’s performed?”

Vilma lets a thumb circle the swollen clitoris and the girl arches her back, almost flying off the table. “Nnnnhhhh!”

“Schhh girl! We shouldn’t disturb the other patients.” At those words, she effortlessly pushes a finger inside.

“Ahhh, don’t, please!”

“You must’ve experienced this before?” Vilma asks as her finger thrusts in and out of the damp pussy. “Or are you a virgin?”

“N-no, I-I’m not.”

“Of course not. Strutting around without a bra, letting everyone see how lewd you are… I’m not surprised.”

A whimper escapes the girl as her hole is fucked by the woman’s unrelenting finger. Vilma adds another finger and pumps both digits enthusiastically in and out.

"Now, I have to spread your lips wide so I can see your vaginal walls."

Vilma reaches for the plastic speculum and carefully insert it. Opening up the blades of the speculum, Vilma exposes the inside of Jennifer's dripping pussy. The girl makes a sound of embarrassment and tries to close her legs.

“Tut, tut. Keep them open,” Vilma reproaches her.

"S-sorry..."

”I can barely see, it’s oozing down here,” Vilma smacks her lips. “Better clean it up a bit.”

Before she’s even processed her own words her mouth's on the girl, licking at her folds. The scent of her is filling up Vilma’s nostrils and she breathes it in, loving how filthy this is; eating out her patient. Sliding her tongue over the swollen bud, Jennifer’s reaction’s immediate.

“Ah! Aaahh!”

”Be quiet,” Vilma barks. ”You’re a very noisy patient. Squealing like this over a regular check-up.”

Secretly she’s pleased, wanting to draw even more cries from her. Her hands digging into the softness of the girl’s thighs, Vilma keeps her legs spread wide open, this time placing her mouth on her clitoris. Her tongue circles the red engorged pearl slowly, before sucking on it hard.  
Jennifer bites down on her hand to muffle her screams.

Vilma’s lapping at her slit like a dog. It’s sloppy and slick’s running down her chin. Moaning at the taste of her, Vilma could go on like this for hours.  
The girl raises her hips to allow easier access and the nurse takes full advantage of it. Plunging her tongue inside the exposed pussy, fluids are gushing out and Jennifer’s thrashing on the table as she whines with need. Pressing her face even closer to Jennifer’s soaked pussy, she fucks the girl with her tongue; ramming it into the warmth of her pussy.

Under the workings of the nurse’s experienced tongue, the girl comes undone. Stiffening, her whole body taut, Jennifer shakes uncontrollably as her orgasm overwhelms her. Falling back on the table, she looks exhausted. Vilma withdraws with lips wet with cum.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Shivering, her patient shakes her head.

“Now of course, there’s another very significant examination I have to perform.”

“Nnnhh?” Jennifer cannot even get a word out.

“The anal exam. I have to make sure that everything looks fine there as well.”

That makes the girl come to life again. “Anal exam? I-I’ve never… please, I don’t want to!”

“This is important,” Vilma rebukes her. “Really, how can I sign off on a health declaration if you won’t even co-operate?”

Jennifer sniffles shamefully. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... It’s just... no one’s ever touched me there.”

The very thought of being first in that hole makes Vilma excited, though she hides it well.

“This is very natural, and a regular part of a check-up. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Vilma promises. “Now, turn around, on your hands and knees.”

Again the girl does as she’s told, her red face revealing how self-conscious she is.

“Stick your ass out as much as you can,” Vilma orders. She presses down a hand on the girl’s back, forcing her torso to lay as flat as possible on the table. “Good girl.”

Throwing away the used plastic speculum, she gets another. “Now then, the anus is more sensitive than the vagina, so I have to properly prepare you first.”  
  
This time Vilma gets the lube and coats the twitching hole in it as well as a finger. “I’m going to insert one finger slowly. Just relax.”

Spreading her ass cheek with one hand, Vilma slowly pushes a finger inside and thrusts the digit back and forth steadily, making sure it won't hurt. "How does it feel? Tell me honestly."

“It… it’s okay.”

The girl’s answer is not enough to satisfy the nurse. “Now, now, that’s not really an answer. Does it hurt?”

“No…”

Vilma curls her finger inside, pushing against the inner walls of Jennifer’s anus, making her cry out and clamp down in the digit.

“Did that hurt?”

“No,” the girl moans.

“Hmm… odd reaction in that case,” Vilma teases. “Can it be that it feels _good_?”  
Her patient turns silent.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. It _should_ feel good.” Vilma withdraws her finger, adds more lube and this time she inserts two fingers.

“Nnnnhhh!”

“Now tell me. If you don’t tell your nurse when it hurts or feel good, how am I to help you?”

Shoving her fingers in and out, she notices that the girl is relaxing and taking it more easily. She’d probably be ready for something bigger soon.

“Come on now,” she purrs. ”You can tell me.”

”I-it... it feels good. But strange.”

“Mmmm, yes,” Vilma moans at her confession. “I must say that you’re taking my fingers quite well. Are you sure no one’s ever played with you here before?” Adding another finger she drives all three digits into the contracting hole.

“No, never!”

“Really? At this rate you could take a dick in here. Maybe I should call in a male nurse and have him fuck you? Hmm? Would you like that?”

“No! Please don’t!”

Vilma shakes her head. ”No, of course not,” she half-sings soothingly. “I would never do anything like that. That would be very unethical of me.”

Her thrusting becomes more frantic as Jennifer is moaning more loudly and bucks her hips.

“Are you going to come? Just from me examining your ass? How obscene.”

Vilma grins as she rams her fingers inside down to her knuckles, probing around in there at every thrust, hitting the girl’s good spots. Trembling, it doesn’t take long for Jennifer to come around the nurse’s fingers. Afterwards, she almost collapses on the table.

Vilma supports her. ”Careful.”

After lubing it up properly, she unhurriedly inserts the new speculum which is more formed like a tube. Jennifer’s too exhausted to protest and obediently takes the foreign object in her ass.

“You’re such a good girl,” Vilma compliments her. “This will soon be over, I promise.”

Opening up the blades carefully, the girl can only whimper in response.

“Mmm, looks very good.” Again impaling her on a finger, Vilma playfully rummages around inside to the sweet music that the girl makes.

“Mmmm, nnnhhhh!”

“You’re so drenched in both holes, it’s pouring out of you,” the nurse comments. ”There. All looks well. You can lie down on your back.”

Relieved, Jennifer turns around, quivering as she lies down.  
“Is… is it over?” She asks innocently.

”Not quite yet.” Vilma moves over to the faucet and washes her hands thoroughly. "There's a oral exam as well."

“Oral exam?” She parrots.

”Of course. Now, have you been experiencing a sore throat? Any sores or bleeding gum?”

“No, not at all.”

“Hmm...,” Vilma takes down a couple of notes. “Now, I’m going to lower the table, so I can take a look down your throat.”

Jennifer gulps visibly. “B-but I’m fine. Really!”

”We’ve had this discussion already, Jennifer,” Vilma lectures her.

“Y-yes, Mrs. Sutton.”

That’s the first time the girl uses her name. Vilma likes it.

“Good, good. You’re doing so well, it’s all soon over. If you just co-operate, it will be very quick.”

“I understand.”

Lowering the table to an appropriate height, Vilma now towers over the girl. “I’ll start with your lips. They should be smooth without lumps.”

Leaning down she takes a firm hold on Jennifer’s chin with a hand, holding her still. “And they should be moist.”

Pressing her mouth down on the girl's enticing pink lips, she licks and nibbles as she explores.  
Jennifer’s moaning into her mouth.

“Mmmm,” Vilma withdraws and rubs her thumb along Jennifer’s spit-covered lips. “Perfect.”

“Is that it? It’s over?” The girl breathes heavily, lust having blown her pupils wide. Vilma can detect a slight disappointment in her voice.

“No, I have to make sure that you have all your teeth and that they are healthy. There shouldn’t be any decay in the mouth of such a young girl. Now, open wide.”

Vilma’s so close she can feel the warm breath on her face. Sliding a finger into Jennifer’s open mouth, she tentatively feels around. Her warm, wet tongue’s everywhere.  
_Damn_ , she wants that tongue on her. Drool’s dribbling down the girl’s chin and Vilma enjoys the sight. Though she definitely wants more.

”I want to make sure of your... muscle strength in your mouth.” Vilma states, knowing that it’s something she just made up. “Suck on my finger.”

It might’ve been a protest that Jennifer tried to voice, but with Vilma’s finger already inside her, her words are distorted. After a few seconds of hesitation, the girl obeys, sucking on her digit.

“ _Very good_ ," Vilma hisses. "Now, use more tongue, as if you’re sucking on an ice cream.”

Jennifer’s tongue whirls around the digit and she closes her eyes in shame as she becomes wetter between her legs and moans wantonly.

“Nicely done,” Vilma groans and pulls out her finger. “It’s time to exam your tongue.”

Covering the girl’s mouth with her own, she forces her tongue inside. Jennifer keens under her rough treatment and arches her back, craving her empty pussy to be filled. Vilma almost comes merely by kissing. She takes the opportunity to taste her lips and tongue and ravishing her completely, leaving the girl panting. Jennifer’s shaking uncontrollably; her whole body’s so taut after all this teasing. And Wilma notices.

“You’re so tense. This won’t do at all.”

Vilma’s suddenly very glad that she recently treated a patient with back pains. There's still a vibrating massaging tool left in the drawer of her desk. It somewhat resembles a cock in shape and form, though completely white in colour and without any ridges or veins.

“You should relax,” she murmurs, grabbing the tool. “And I know just the ticket.”

Jennifer’s eyes widen at the sight.

“This here is a medical tool used for massages," Vilma explains."It’s frequently utilized in treating a patient experiencing pain or stiffness.”

“I’m… I’m not in pain,” she responds, eyeing the tool as if it’s a scorpion preparing to sting, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Of course not,” Velma agrees. “But you’re very stiff, and I would be a lousy nurse if I let you walk out of here without treatment.”

“B-but I don’t need-“

“Nonsense,” she interrupts. ”Now, lie still while I treat you.”

Vilma rests the tool lightly against Jennifer’s clitoris. The girl winces, but when nothing happens she gives the nurse a questioning look. Then the switch is flipped and it instantly starts to vibrate with a low buzzing sound.

“Ahh!” She cries out, caught by surprise.

Trying to crawl backwards on the table to get away, she’s stopped by a firm hand on her arm. The vibration’s increased and she arches under the pleasurable massage of her clitoris, squirming wildly on the table.

“Nnnnhh! It’s too much! Please, too much!”

“What did I tell you about making so much _noise_?”

Considering the tool a few seconds, Vilma realizes that it’s not that big and easy to clean off, so she hatches a plan. Without hesitation she eases the pressure on the girl’s clitoris to instead nudge its head at her folds, separating the lips to unhurriedly penetrate her pussy.

“No! Don’t!” Jennifer pleads. “Only my boyfriend’s been there!”

With no mercy the girl’s impaled on the tool, it sliding in easily with the help of her own slick, her body betraying her. Her pussy swallows the plastic tool hungrily, sucking it in with barely any urging from the nurse. Jennifer trashes in pleasure not knowing how to handle it. She’s never felt this amount of pleasure before, not even with her boyfriend.  
  
She’s so far gone she doesn’t even notice that the nurse’s busy removing her pants, having left the tool inside her to continue its work. Vilma lowers the table as far as it goes and climbs up on the girl’s chest, though making sure not to add too much pressure.

“W-what… nnhhhh! Aaaahhh what are-?” Jennifer can’t get a full sentence out, crying and moaning as she’s approaching climax.

“You’re disturbing the other patients,” Vilma claims. “If you can’t keep quiet, I’ll have to help you.”

Jennifer tries to twist her body and get away when the older woman climbs higher up her body and positions herself over Jennifer's face.

“Now, be a good girl.”

Hooking a finger around her panties she pulls them aside, revealing her dripping, throbbing pussy. She’s been aroused for so long and now it’s time for her reward.  
Sitting down comfortably on the girl’s face, Vilma holds her head still with a firm grip of her hair. Slick dribbles down on Jennifer’s chin as she struggles to get free. But there’s no avoiding the hairy wet pussy crushing down.  
  
Screaming as the sensations in her pussy overwhelms her; Vilma takes advantage of Jennifer's open mouth and grinds down on it. Without fighting back and without any more prompting, the girl starts to desperately lick at the soggy mess invading her mouth.  
Vilma moans loudly. _Damn, it feels so good._  
  
Riding her face, Vilma’s so wrapped up in her own pleasure that she fails to notice that Jennifer's been made to come by the massage tool and is whimpering as her abused pussy’s still being milked for yet more juice. Tears pouring down her cheeks, being pushed closer and closer to the edge again, she doubles her efforts in getting the nurse off whilst simultaneously trying to thrust her hips. The vibrations feel _so good_ , but she wants a cock pounding in her pussy. It’s not enough.  
  
Vilma wiggles on top of her, pinning the girl down between her legs. Rubbing her own breasts, Wilma’s groaning and grinding down on the girl’s eager tongue.  
  
“Damn, you’re so good at this. Ever eaten out a woman before? Huh?”  
  
Jennifer tries to respond but Wilma only clamps down on her, forcing the girl to continue lapping and sucking on her drenched pussy, drinking her juices. As Wilma reaches her orgasm, she stifles a cry and shudders violently.  
  
Coming down from her high the room's filled with slurping sounds as Jennifer swallows the slick gushing out. Savouring this moment, Vilma stays put until she becomes too sensitive and climbs down, happily taking in the image of the young girl lying on her back with chin, mouth and nose coated with her juices.  
  
Jennifer shouts out as she comes once more as her pussy’s stimulated by the vibrations. Vilma turns it off and pulls it out of the bone-less girl.  
  
“Such a good girl,” she purrs. “See? I told you everything would feel much better afterwards.”  
  
“Nnnggghh…”  
  
“What’s that? Oh, naughty thing... you’re not satisfied?”  
  
“ _Please_ …” the girl sobs. “Fuck me. I _need_ it.”  
  
Grinning, Vilma fulfils her request. There’s a round plastic handle at the end of the massage tool, used for better grip, and as she inserts the tool once more into Jennifer’s pussy, Vilma unscrews the handle, raises it to the middle of the tool and then screws it back on.  
  
“I’ll fuck you,” she promises.  
  
Straddling the girl’s hips, she angles the tool slightly upwards between her legs and slowly sinks down on it. Biting her lip, she tries to keep quiet as the other end of the tool pierces her, until she reaches the handle in the middle, unable to go any further. Catching Jennifer’s gaze, she throws off her shirt, pulls up her bra without removing it and leans forward. Gripping one of her heavy breasts, she brushes it against the girl’s sticky lips.  
  
“Here, sweetheart. Have a taste.”  
  
Jennifer starts sucking on the nipple with urgency, as if trying to draw out milk.  
  
“Mmmm yes… suck harder.”  
  
As the girl does as she’s told, the woman starts moving her hips whilst clamping down on the massage tool.  
  
“Come on sweet Jennifer, move your hips too,” she encourages.  
  
As they start thrusting in symphony, they’re fucking themselves, letting the tool ram into them.  
  
“Aaahh! Aaaahh mmmmm!” Jennifer can’t keep her voice down and Vilma’s enjoying this too much to care.  
  
“Your boyfriend can’t fuck you like this, can he?”  
  
“Nnnnhh this is sooo good! Yes, more, _more_!”  
  
Increasing her speed, Vilma takes hold of the girls hips and impales her repeatedly with force, helping the exhausted poor thing keep up the pace.  
  
“Yes! Yes! Oh, I’m going to come again!" Vilma roars. "I’m fucking your pussy until I come!”  
  
At that moment the door flings open.

 

 

*******************

    
 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

_The next day_

 

As Sam leaves the locker room dressed in scrubs and ready to face another day, she’s at once pounced upon by Ambrosia who's nearly jumping up and down at the sight of her.  
  
“Did you hear?” She whispers theatrically, eyes wide and excited.  
  
“About what?”  
  
Ambrosia appears thrilled by the prospect of being the one to tell her and drags her into an empty corner of the hallway, away from prying eyes and ears.  
  
“Everyone’s been talking about it since yesterday!” Her whisper turns into a high-piched squeal. “Sutton's been fired!”  
  
“What?” Sam stares at her. Is this a joke?  
  
” _I know!_ " Ambrosia can't contain her glee, knowing that what she's about to say will shock Sam to the core. "Apparently, and you’re not going to believe this, she was caught having sex with a patient. _Caught in the act!_ ”  
  
Sam rolls her eyes. “Okay, now I know you’re just messing with me.”  
  
“No! It’s really true!” Ambrosia insists. ”She had to pack her things and leave immediately yesterday after talking to the police.”  
  
“The police?”  
  
There's nothing illegal about having sex with a patient, even if it's ethically questionable. Why were they even called? Ambrosia nods and quickly looks around to make sure they're still out of earshot from both patients and co-workers.  
  
”Apparently, the patient accuses Sutton of drugging her somehow. She claims to have been raped. And the weird thing is that Sutton’s claiming the same thing!”  
  
“Wait, wait, you mean they’re _both_ accusing the other of rape?”  
  
“Yes! Strange, huh? I don't know any details because the one who caught them has probably been gagged by the higher-ups. And the police... well, they won't say anything about an ongoing investigation. I wonder who found them though...," she muses.  
  
A nurse passes by and calls for Ambrosia’s attention sharply, giving both of them a suspicious glare as if they're up to no good. Ambrosia winks at Sam before scurrying off, leaving her in shock.  
Mrs. Sutton’s the last person Sam would ever imagine doing something like that. Could it really be true?  
  
Not able to wrap her head around it, she tries to push it away for now and concentrate on her work. But as she leads a patient into an examination room, she can’t help but mull it over several times. Why would Sutton do such a thing? And in the workplace where anyone can enter the room and catch them at any time? It seems so unlikely. No... something must be wrong.

 

 

***********************

 

 

Ambrosia calls out for a 'Mr. Jones' in the waiting room and two men approaches, explaining that they're father and son. Leading them into the only room that's available for the moment, it just so happens to be Mrs. Sutton's old room.  
She almost expects to find some trace of what's been going on here the day before, but it looks clean and fresh without any hint of the scandal that's shaken up the clinic. There's even the boquet of flowers that Mrs. Sutton had removed from the breakroom. Ambrosia _knew_ that the old woman had taken them for herself!  
  
Closing the door behind them, she gestures for the men to sit down in a couple of chairs and then introduces herself.  
  
“Ms. Simons," the younger of the two men shakes her hand. "I'm Peter Jones Jr.”  
  
So this is the son. Probably in his early thirties, he already has a couple of grey streaks in his black hair. He's physically fit with broad shoulders and she has to admit there's something attractive about him.  
  
“And this is my father; Peter Jones Sr.”  
  
Clearly the son is a younger version of his father, though clean-shaven. Jones Sr. is also fit with a large frame, almost appearing too big for the chair he's occuping. His weather-beaten face shows his age, but a neatly-trimmed beard and mustache of dark and light grey almost makes him look younger. At least it makes him look much more handsome.  
  
Actually, he reminds her of the actor that plays Negan in the Walking Dead, one of her favorite TV shows. They must have some kick-ass genes in their family. _Lucky them_.  
  
She shakes his hand as well and then settles down in her own chair. “So, how can I help you?”  
  
Jones Jr. looks over at his father, as if seeking approval to speak. “We’re here for my father’s sake. It's not safe for him to drive right now, so I promised to accompany him.”  
  
Ambrosia turns to other man. “So, Mr. Jones… Sr, what seems to be the problem?”  
  
“Mr. Jones good ‘nuff,” he answers gruffly. “Call him Peter.”  
  
“Okay,” she nods. “Mr. Jones?”  
  
”I’ve a right pain in my leg, comin' n' goin'.” He shrugs. “Figure ‘tis my age. Other than that, I’m fit as a fiddle.”  
  
“It’s a lot more serious than he lets on,” the son interjects. ”He gets pains more often than before and it's dangerous when he's up on the roof doing mending or mowing the lawn.”  
  
“Don’t interrupt me, boy,” Mr. Jones says brusquely, though he doesn't sound annoyed. “I’m older, but it don't mean I can't still handle my own business."  
  
"He lives alone out there after I moved to the city. There's no neighbours or relatives anywhere close," the son adds. "I've suggested -"  
  
"I ain’t sellin’ the house and movin’ to the city. I’ve been livin’ in that house for nearabout forty years.”  
  
“I know, I know," Peter sighs. "We just don’t know what’s wrong and I'm worried."  
  
“I understand." Ambrosia nods. "In that case, we’re going to have a look at your leg, Mr. Jones."  
  
Mr. Jones nods curtly.  
  
“Would you prefer a male nurse to-?”  
  
He shakes his head. “Be done with it.”  
  
Ambrosia asks him to remove his pants and sit down on the examination table so she can examine the leg and he complies wordlessly.  
As she runs a few tests she asks some standard questions to see if there’s been some incident that brought this on, how active he is in his day to day life and so on.  
  
Mr. Jones is obviously used to hard labor judging by the calluses of his hands and strong body, which his answers to her questions confirms.  
He might've strained his leg muscle whilst working.  
  
The longer the examination goes on, the warmer it seems to get in the small room. Ambrosia can feel her cheeks flushing. Peter also appears affected and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, gritting his teeth. Finally, Ambrosia can't take it anymore.  
  
“I apologize, I don’t know if there’s something wrong with the AC. I’ll just open a window.”  
  
Trying to crack open a window, it won't budge. And neither does the other window in the room. Both of them are stuck. Sighing inwardly, it doesn’t really surprise her. The building’s very old and need maintenance but the health clinic has no money to see to its many flaws.

“It's really hot in here,” Peter shifts restlessly in the chair, obviously uncomfortable. "You don't have a fan?"  
  
“The boy’s whinin’ too much,” Mr. Jones says gruffly with a dismissive gesture. “Too like his momma.”  
  
Ambrosia’s eyes widen. She doesn't want to be caught in a family argument and quickly changes the subject.  
  
“I cannot see anything wrong with your leg, Mr. Jones. You’re a bit stiff but that’s it.”  
  
“Ain’t only thin’ stiff on me,” he grins.  
  
Ambrosia can't help but lower her eyes to see that indeed, he's telling the truth. Blushing she looks away, wondering why the conversation suddenly took this strange turn.  
  
“Father!” His son cries out shocked.  
  
“Don’t use that tone with me, boy,” Mr. Jones snorts. “Just payin’ a compliment to a lady. Ain’t never had such a fine nurse in my days.”  
  
“Really, I… I apologize,” Peter stutters whilst trying to compose himself, the heat and a strange feeling affecting him. “He’s… he’s not….”  
  
“Blushin’ like a goddamn milk maid,” Mr. Jones sneers. “If I ain’t had grandsons, I’d say you never stuck your dick in a woman.”  
  
Ambrosia’s speechless at his crassness and it takes several seconds for her to regain her focus.  
  
“Really, Mr. Jones, this is not appropriate-“ a tingling sensation between her legs makes her gasp.  
  
There's something about Mr. Jones' looks combined with his southern drawl that makes everything he says... _Dirty_. But in a good way.  
Really, she shouldn't be thinking about a patient like this. What's wrong with her? Ambrosia tries to pull herself back together. Better get them both out of the door as soon as possible.  
  
“I’ll show you how it’s done,” Mr. Jones says, giving his son a hard look.  
  
Ambrosia's a bit worried that this might turn violent, and so she tries to walk in between Peter occuping the chair and Mr. Jones now standing by the examination table. She might need to call for security and wants to get to the door as quickly as possible.  
But her legs fail her as they refuse to carry her all the way. Instead she stops in front of Mr. Jones, the tingling sensation between her legs returning in full force.  
  
“On your knees, lil’ darlin’,” Mr. Jones says with a wicked smile as he pulls out his rigid cock. His grey steely eyes are fixated on her red-painted lips.  
  
Trembling of excitement she gets down on her knees, his cock filling her view. There's beads of precum on the tip already and it looks delicious. Her pussy's now all out throbbing at the sight. Unable to stop herself even if she wanted to, she leans forward and tentatively licks the head, lapping up the slick. Ambrosia moans at the taste of him.  
  
Mr. Jones guides her head and positions her right in front of his member. “Open up, darlin’.”  
  
She obeys, not finding any reason to resist his command. But though his cock’s not long, it’s wide, and she can barely fit him in her mouth.  
  
“Nice an’ easy now,” he praises her, as if calming an unruly horse. “Take it all in.”  
  
He takes a firm grip on her hair and steers her mouth all the way down to the hilt. Her eyes water as her mouth and jaw's stretched as far as possible, and she clenches her thighs together to give herself some relief.  
  
“Ain’t never had a black girl suck my dick,” he groans. Increasing the pace by thrusting inside her mouth, she's being pressed all the way down into his coarse hair. “You lookin' son? Might learn a thin' or two.”  
  
Ambrosia can't see Peter’s face from her position, but her cheeks are burning at the thought of him watching. She likes it.  
  
“Gonna come,” he says with a strained voice.  
  
She half-heartedly tries to withdraw, keep some of her dignity, but his grasp is like iron. A few moments later he shots his load, thick and hot, into her mouth. Pulling back, she quickly swallows.  
  
“You hard from watchin’ your pa getting’ head?” Mr. Jones mocks.  
  
Ambrosia looks behind her and see Peter still sitting in his chair, his erection pressing against his pants.  
  
“Be a good girl and go sort it out,” Mr. Jones commands, as his thumb strokes her lip sensually.  
  
It's a short distance to Peter's chair, so she crawls her way over, eager to taste him and compare to his father. Will his cock be as thick?  
Peter’s hands are shaking so badly, Ambrosia has to unzip his pants for him. He's not as thick as Mr. Jones, but he's longer. There’s no way she can take in all of him.  
  
As she hesitantly forms her mouth around his tip, she can hear Mr. Jones saunter off to the door to lock it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there's a warning bell going off. Though she don't know why.  
This whole situation reminds her of something... something she knows. Something she's heard. But she can't concentrate on anything but trying to take as much of Peter in her mouth as possible.  
  
“Lookin’ fine on your knees, darlin’.” Mr. Jones is closer now.  
  
The way he talks and the things he says makes her so aroused she's almost dripping now. She moans around Peter’s cock, making his member twitch in response.  
Peter doesn't last very long before he comes in her mouth with no warning. Surprised, she withdraws coughing, trying to swallow and catch her breath at the same time.  
  
“Boy ain’t got no manners,” Mr. Jones shakes his head disappointed.  
  
“I… I’m sorry, I…,” Peter stammers, and Ambrosia's not sure if he's talking to her or his father.  
  
“Stop talkin’. Ain’t I raised you right?”  
  
Ambrosia rises, thinking that it’s over. She's torn between wanting more and feeling the urge to stop it all before it goes too far. Or maybe they've already crossed that line?  
  
“Now, you gonna make it up to lady?”  
  
Peter nods, his cheeks bright pink in embarrassment. Mr. Jones must've made a gesture to his son behind her back, because Peter falls down on his knees before her, head lowered in shame.  
  
“What-?”  
  
She doesn't manage to get anything more out before Peter yanks down her loose-fitting pants to reveal her black thong. Trying to stop his hands, she can feel the pressure of Mr. Jones chest behind her as he grabs her arms and holds her upright.  
  
“Needn’t worry lil’ lady. Teachin’ him manners.”  
  
Peter’s pupils are blown wide as he looks up at her face, and he presses a finger against her pussy through her panties. Searching and finding her clitoris, he expertly pinches and rolls his fingers to make her moan. She throws her head back, already so wound up after giving them blowjobs.  
  
Hooking a finger around the thin fabric, he pulls her panties aside to expose her pussy. He appears mezmerized for a moment before he leans in, giving her pussy a lick.  
  
“It’s pink inside,” he remarks amazed as he separates her lips to see more. His tongue follows and he laps at her pussy and clitoris.  
  
Ambrosia whimpers frustrated, the pressure's not enough to make her come. Wiggling her hips, she tries to thrust her lips against him, imploring him to do it harder. Whilst doing so, she can feel Mr. Jones cock stiffening again, pressing into her back.  
  
“Only thin’ that boy’s good for,” he murmurs low in her ear. “Lickin’ cunts.”  
  
She shivers at the closeness of him. He licks the shell of her ear gently and then sucks on her earlobe as his son sucks on her clitoris.  
  
“Aaahh! Ah, nnnhh,” she can't stop the sounds from escaping. The combination of being eaten out with the vulgar words is making her a more aroused than she's ever been.  
  
As Mr. Jones forces her legs apart even more to give Peter better access, he also takes the opportunity to let a hand slide up under her shirt. His hand, rough from years of manual labour, sneaks its way up over her stomach and lands just below her bra.  
  
“Nice and curvy,” he mumbles pleased. “How I like ‘em.”  
  
She whines and arches her back, wanting his hands on her breasts. Wanting more pressure on her clitoris. All this teasing is driving her mad as she's very slowly nearing the edge.  
  
“I… I’m-“  
  
“She's comin’,” Mr. Jones grins. “Go on, boy.”  
  
The man at her feet doubles his efforts, eager to give her the release she's craving. Barely able to keep herself from crying out, her whole body’s shaking as the orgasm hits her hard.  
  
"Mmmm nnnnhhh!"  
  
All spent, she sags against Mr. Jones' chest, trusting him to keep her standing. Her legs are shaking and her chest heaving as she's recovering from that mindblowing orgasm.  
  
“She be needin’ help,” Mr. Jones declares. Obviously Peter knows what his father means without any further explaination, as he helps to keep her standing as they both remove her shirt and bra.

 

 

***********************

 

 

 

 


End file.
